


Circle Six

by Balenae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Genyatta Zine, King's Row (Overwatch), M/M, Pre-Slash, Underworld (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: Zenyatta was stirred suddenly from his meditation as a long blade laid across his shoulder, the edge resting against the parts of his neck and a low voice, faintly mechanized, growled, “Do not move.”





	Circle Six

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for Vol. 2 of the 'We Walk in Harmony' Genyatta Zine. I got a little experimental with this, trying to convey a whole lot in few words, hopefully there's no confusion. Its a minor snapshot of an AU I considered writing for a long time, but with all the other ideas I have jostling around it was one that I'm more-or-less thinking will not be written in full. 
> 
> Preorders for the Zine are open until June 21st, and you can do so by heading over to genyattazine.tumblr.com

Zenyatta tied the curtain that covered his door open, and then sat alone in the small quarters he had to himself, head bowed, settling into his meditation. He focused inward, letting all the movements and micromovements of his body still, the sounds of his internal processes silencing but for the faint thrum of the internal liquid coolant rushing around his body like blood. Around and above him, the churning drone of the city and the factories created a white noise he was long-used to, and his own quiet sound joined the symphony, lost to the noise. Even though it was late now, the city of King’s Row seldom quieted completely, most of its lingering, straggling industry automated and in need of neither omnic nor human hands to work. A city above and a city below, both so full of people, and yet sometimes he felt as though this was the loneliest place on earth. Hearing his own sounds blend with those of this downtrodden city gave him hope, a feeling of togetherness and unity he worked so hard for in his active hours.

But something was different tonight, he reflected, something amiss. Peaceful and tuned into the universe around him, Zenyatta sensed a strange blip of discord, unfamiliar to the usual canvas of constantly shifting energy that was the King’s Row spiritual spectrum. The city was usually a sea of discord in its own way, thousands of discontented humans and omnics creating a soup of malcontent he could feel. But this was something else, something different tonight—yet somehow familiar. It seemed as though it was close, too, for him to feel something so individual—

He was stirred suddenly from his meditation as a long blade laid across his shoulder, the edge resting against the parts of his neck and a low voice, faintly mechanized, growled, “Do not move.”

Zenyatta remained relaxed and free of tension, and instead made a soft sound of recognition, not bothering to try and turn around. “I was wondering when you would find your way back in, Genji.” He said, finding some small amusement even in this. “You are terribly persistent.”

“I wouldn’t need to be if you weren’t so difficult,” Genji snapped back at him and the sword bit just a little more against the metal of his pistons. There was no pain, not where he had no sensors to interpret the sensation, but he could feel the pressure of it. 

That, however, did elicit a faint chuckle from the omnic. “Ah, I think that may be a matter of perspective. I believe you are being rather difficult yourself. After all, you have come into my home not once but several times now, invaded my peaceful corner of this city and made demands. Seeking someone that is not here.” His head tilted but he still did not try to turn to see the man he knew was behind him.

Genji snorted, the sound short and derisive. “Peaceful, right. ‘The leader of the omnic proletariat of Underworld and the voice behind the peaceful call for equality; known to Overwatch only as ‘The Harmonious One.’ For someone so _harmonious_ you have been nothing but trouble.”

Zenyatta’s response was firm and immediate. “That is not my name.”

“What?”

“A new name was bestowed upon me. You may call me Zenyatta now. I would wish you to, in fact.” His tone grew lighter, “In fact, you are the first I have told.”

There was a moment of considering silence, but it was brief, “Zenyatta, hmm? And who bestowed this name? This _religious_ name, unless I am mistaken. It was him, wasn’t it? Mondatta?” The flat of the blade tapped against his metal pieces to drive home a point and assure attention. “Do not bother lying. Overwatch knows you’re hiding him here. Give him up.”

“Hmm,” Zenyatta tapped one finger against a knee clothed only in shabby blue pants for his modesty. “If you believe so, you may certainly search.” He spread his hands to indicate the whole of his space. “But my home is small and there is little room to hide anything, much less a fugitive monk.”

“And yet Underworld is a big place. I’m sure he must be down here somewhere. Give. Him. Up.”

“I will not,” Zenyatta declined easily.

“Then I will sever your head from your shoulders and find him. You cannot stop me.” The words were meant to threaten and frighten, but the omnic stayed firm.

“No, I will not stop you, Genji, should you choose to take such action. But you will not do this.” His voice was calm and sure, no fear to be found. 

“And what makes you so certain, omnic? Or is it _monk_ now?” The sword bit again, nicking the insulation on one of his exposed wires. 

Zenyatta finally turned his head and beheld Genji behind him, the Blackwatch operative sent to finish the failed assassination on Tekhartha Mondatta. He was sleek and gorgeous, black carbon fiber cybernetic shell and blue running lights, the cold, cobalt line of his visor as sharp and keen as the edge of his blade. Beautiful and just as deadly. “Because you have not.”

“Don’t test my patience—” Genji growled, but Zenyatta interrupted him. 

“If you were content to kill me and move on, you would have done so the first time we met and I denied you, or the second. But here we are yet again and you hesitate, Genji. There must be a reason it is so.”

“You must think a lot of yourself,” Genji snapped back, voice cold. “Perhaps I do not believe you worth bothering with.”

Zenyatta chuckled softly, “But you keep bothering with me. You could descend into Underworld nearly undetected and search out your quarry, but some desire returns you to my side every time. You will not hurt me.” It was said with absolute certainty, but even in this it was a gamble for Zenyatta. 

A tense, silent moment followed. The blade, still heavy with a deadly promise, pressed against Zenyatta’s neck before the weight of it vanished and he heard a soft slide as it was sheathed away. 

Behind him, he heard a muttered, “You are so frustrating.”

It startled a laugh out of Zenyatta’s voice box and he finally turned completely around to see his rather vexing visitor. Rippling augmented musculature beneath that sleek exoskeletal shell, black and blue, a beautiful, blooming bruise to his night, magnificent and compelling as ever. 

“And you’re no coward though, I will give you that. I could have easily killed you.” There was the slightest tilt of that impassable visor as Genji looked him up and down. “Anyone else would be frightened of Blackwatch descending on them in the night. But you’ve always been maddeningly calm about it, taking it in stride.”

There was a question there as well, Zenyatta knew, he could hear it plainly. He rose fully from his seated position and dared take one step closer to the assassin in his home. “It was because I sensed your discord.”

“My what?” The answer met with more questions, as Zenyatta knew it would be. 

“Your discord. Your unhappiness, your uneasiness, your doubts, your _darkness_.” 

He saw Genji bristle and tense at his words. “If this is supposed to be a critique of Overwatch’s corruption—”

“No, Genji,” Zenyatta interrupted gently. “I do not care about Overwatch. I care about you. I was not frightened because I could sense that discord, sense how much this is not what you want. You are not Overwatch, not their goals or their corruption.” He dared take another step closer. “It does not have to be this way.”

“Do not speak of things you do not understand,” Genji said, voice frigid.

“Oh, Genji,” Zenyatta murmured sadly. “I do understand. I understand you better than you want to admit.” He extended one hand to him, cautious but hopeful. “Do you trust me?” 

Genji said nothing, but under the circumstances the omnic took this as more of a positive response than a negative. The cyborg would have no issue denying trust if that was truly how he’d felt. 

The omnic took a last step closer, bringing he and Genji within inches. “Give me your hands.”

Genji hesitated, and then held them up, his posture stiff, uncertain. Zenyatta reached out, cupping them gently in his own, long fingers cradling the backs of Genji’s hands. He concentrated—this new to him—Mondatta’s teachings finding purchase in his soul, but still so largely untested. Between their cupped fingers, coalescing energy drew from him a small, turning orb, golden like sunshine. A thin filament of golden light twining out to attach directly to the center of Genji’s chest. 

Zenyatta heard him take a strangled, shuddering breath and a soft exhalation of wonder escaped. _“Oh.”_

And Zenyatta felt, just for a moment, for one perfect instant, the energy in the room, charged between them, synchronize and they stood together in complete Harmony. “Peace, Genji,” He murmured, half asking, half pleading. “Be at peace.”

A shudder wracked through Genji’s form, his head bowing forward, fingers twitching and clutching a little as though he could grasp this small orb of contentment and harmony, hold it tightly, loath to let it go.

Then, Genji faltered, harmony fading and discord flaring to life again, the moment shattering between them. He took half a step back and then pushed Zenyatta away, lashing out and fighting against it. 

The omnic stumbled a bit, finding his footing again, but Genji was already gone, vanishing like a spirit, no sign of his presence left. Once more, Zenyatta was alone in his small room.

He stood there a moment, hand extended, reaching out to nothing, to an afterimage or a memory, no one there to take his hand this time. He dropped it back to his side, saddened, disappointed, and missing a troublesome man. 

He turned around again and sat down, settling into a lotus position and trying to find his calm center, reaching for meditation again. Inside him his coolant rushed and above and around him the city sang.

Genji would be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, if you're interested in getting either a copy of vol. 2 or a bundle of vol. 1 and 2, preorders are open until June 21st. Head to genyattazine.tumblr.com for info and ordering.


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